“Here’s the hatches, sir, and they’re all battened down and the ’paulins is nailed over ’em. I’ll soon have some fresh air in.” And before I could grasp what he was going to do, I heard a curious ripping sound, which told me that he had passed the blade of his long Spanish spring-knife through between two of the cross-hatches, and was cutting through it.
“There!” he said, as a gleam of light struck through, so brilliant that I knew it must be broad daylight; and even that ray sent a thrill of hope through me, for it seemed to bring me nearer to the living world after feeling as if I had been buried alive.
“Don’t cut any more yet, Bob,” I whispered.
“But that there hole won’t give enough air for one man to sniff, sir. You must have another to let out the steam.”
“But listen first,” I said. “Can you hear any one on deck?”
There was perfect silence for some minutes, and then came a deep—
“No.”
“What time should you think it is?”
“’Bout four bells, I should say, sir. Sun’s shining down so as the tarpaulin’s made the hatch hot.”
“Then the lubbers are all having a caulk,” growled Dumlow. “Tell him to have another cut, sir, and a good long ’un this time.”